Page 48 of Omen of ice
“I thought it prudent to minimize the spread. Each time Valen is attacked, it seems to entice his enemies to act. Makes him appear more…vulnerable.”
Orbik considers this for a moment before nodding sharply. His gaze goes to his nephew. “The attacker was thwarted, and you’re safe. The Aphelian has honored her ancestor. What is the complication?”
“The complication,” I say as calmly as I can manage, “is that you nearly killed me when you siphoned more of Valen’s magic a few weeks ago.”
The Winter Lord and his lady exchange glances. Something unspoken passes between them, and his right hand twitches. They’re surprised I know. Do they really think Valen would keep such a secret from me? Don’t they know how this works? No, we don’t have a conventional Fae/Aphelian bond, but really?
“Whatever magic the druid ink holds seems to have linked us together,” Valen rushes to interject. “It creates a…liability.”
Liani clutches her husband’s hand. “How so?”
“The wound I received wouldn’t have been fatal for me, but it could have killed the Aphelian.” Valen catches my gaze for a moment before quickly looking away. “When I’m injured, she will be injured. When she is injured, I’ll be harmed as well.”
“You believe this link works both ways?” The panic in Liani’s voice is impossible to ignore. She slips into her seat beside Orbik and grips the arm of his chair hard enough to turn her knuckles snow-white.
Valen nods. “We’ve tested the theory. It’s all true.”
Orbik shrugs. “We are far hardier than humans. She would have to be beheaded for you to—”
“Is it a risk you’re willing to take?” Valen makes a slicing motion across his throat.
Liani glares at Orbik, then at me. Her lips twist in a way that I can only describe as poisonous. She’s a snake, coiled and ready, and I’m the mouse. “Youmust fix this at once.”
“That’s easier said than done,” I reply coolly. They simply make a demand and wait for it to be carried out. Don’t they understand that just wanting something doesn’t mean you can have it?
“You’ve obviously made a mistake. Your part of the partnership is to protect him, and that cannot be done while he shares your human frailties. Was this not the result of one of your silly little druid markings? Simply erase it and start over.”
“Erase it?” I hold out my forearm, the one I traced the alarm sigil into, as an example. The deep red symbol glares back at me. “The magic has seeped into my skin. I’ve already used it to ward Valen’s rooms. Does that seem like is can simply beerased?”
With a sigh, Orbik says, “I will allow you to contact the druid priestess in charge of the Order. She may know a way to fix this.”
“We’ve already taken the liberty, Uncle.” Valen stands a little straighter. “I—”
Orbik stands. “Good. Then we’ll wait for her reply. Until then, the Aphelian will be confined to the east wing for your safety and, of course, for her own. I will issue you an additional guard in the meantime.” He gestures to the guards standing by the door. They cross the room and settle, one on either side of me, while Kopic takes the lead. “Please see our esteemed friendback to her quarters. Be sure to get her anything she desires. Valen, if you’ll remain for a moment, I’d like a word…”
Valen starts to speak, but the guard on my right gently nudges me forward and out of the throne room before either of us can protest. We navigate the halls in silence, swiftly moving through the courtyard that connects the rest of the house with the eastern section.
When we get to my door, Kopic bows. “I wish you a speedy resolution to the matter, Aphelian.”
I try to thank him but don’t trust myself to speak. Whatever Orbik is saying to Valen has him worried, and the sudden flood of it makes me dizzy.
Closing the door, I sink onto my cot. This is bad. I don’t want anyone else to look after Valen. Plus, would distance make the link better—or worse?
I lay back and fold my arms across my chest. Weeks have passed, and the creation of the link still bothers me. I know I memorized the sigil perfectly. Made sure to duplicate every curve, each twisting line, from a meticulously studied picture. How could I have gotten it so wrong?
Sigils that give strength—both physical and mental—are shaped vaguely like trees, their edges resembling branches reaching toward the sky and roots running deep. There are marks for altered senses—a collection of inkings that appear as an eye, more or less. The rebirth sigil, used to restart a stopped heart. It has to be placed over the heart. Then there’s the Heartbreaker, also drawn over the heart…
A chill creeps across my skin, and I bolt upright and jump from the cot. The sinking sensation in my belly almost brings me to my knees.
The Heartbreaker.
The rebirth sigil.
I drew one over the other.
“How could I be so stupid!” I pace like a caged animal.
There’s no rule about overlapping sigils when it comes to everyday use. We do it all the time, many of the marks having to be traced on the outsides of our wrists, bases of our spines, or in the hollows of our throats. Power calls to power, and there’s nothing stronger than life force. But the ancient sigils, the ones nearly forgotten—those are different. They hold more magic.
